The man, whose hand had been torn off, screamed in agony, his face flushed crimson as he clutched the bloody stump. The girl who watched gasped, covering her mouth in shock. She knew better than to linger in danger. With her heart racing, she ran—far away, back to the safety of her home.
"Ha," Silverstein sighed, rubbing his temple as he looked down at the man, "Now you've got blood all over me." He chuckled, a dark humor rising within him as he observed the chaos he'd wrought.
"You! You... What are you!?" the man stammered, his eyes wide with terror.
"You can still ask questions?" Silverstein laughed, amusement twinkling in his gaze. It was clear the man didn't realize he stood before the crown prince. The shadows of the night cloaked Silverstein's true identity, and humans weren't known for their good eyesight in the dark. "Perhaps I should finish you off?" Leaving him with a severed hand seemed almost cruel; it would be simpler to end his life.
